One of the things that makes baseball unique among team
sports  other than being the only one where there's no time clock and
you can take off your shirt, kick back in the bleachers with a cold one and
bet on how close the first baseman can drop the ball to the pitching mound between
innings  is the whole everyday player-pitcher thing.

You've got one whole set of guys playing every day, and
another whole set who only play once or twice a week. And then there's the third
group.

The bullpen.

It takes a whole different mentality to come out of the
pen. The everyday player, he knows he's going to see action. The pitcher, he
knows what day his start is. But in the bullpen, every day is an adventure.
If you are a closer, you don't know whether you're going to be counting green
shirts in the crowd during a 12-0 blowout or anticipating facing the heart of
the order in the bottom of the ninth with a 3-2 lead.

Different people handle the situation in different ways.
In Houston, Billy Wagner is one of the best closers in the game, yet still doesn't
get the publicity of, say, a Mariano Rivera  even though Wagner saved
39 of 41 games last year. If anybody is automatic, it is Wagner. Yet every close
game has him as anxious as an expectant father.

"Billy has a little fun down there, in the early part of
the game," says Astros bullpen coach John Tamargo. "But you can't really talk
to him after about the sixth or seventh inning, when he's totally focused on
what he has to do.

"You kind of leave him to his own thing."

The first five or six innings, Wagner keeps tabs on the
action, but not too closely.

"There's no reason to get overly technical at that point,"
he says. "It doesn't do me any good to watch how Shane (Reynolds) is pitching,
say, Chipper Jones, because he's going to pitch to him differently than me.
I just try to watch who is swinging the bat well."

After the fifth, Wagner goes into the clubhouse to stretch
and get "heated up." By the seventh inning, Wagner says, "I'm a nervous wreck.
I don't feel comfortable until the phone call comes or it's the ninth inning
and I know I'm in the game. Then I start warming up and start to relax and it
starts to get easier for me."

Once he's on the mound, Wagner isn't playing against the
other team as much as himself.

"Hitters aren't going to beat me. I beat myself," he says.
"That's what the other teams are saying about the best closers: hopefully he
makes a mistake. If he makes a mistake, we'll get him. That's how you beat closers.

"Look at Trevor (Hoffman, in San Diego). He doesn't have
great stuff, but he knows how to pitch. You just sit there and hope he makes
a mistake. If he makes a mistake then you have a chance."

"There's no science to me. I walk out there on the field,
they know what they're facing," Wagner says "As difficult as it is to hit a
fastball, these guys are paid to hit guys like me. They're not out there thinking,
‘OK, he's got a split-finger, a curveball, a changeup.' It's like, ‘OK, here
comes the fastball.' It's a different mindset than facing Shane Reynolds, who
is a true pitcher. I'm not a true pitcher. I'm a pitcher with one pitch, with
a slider that I occasionally throw."

Being a lefty, Wagner is particularly valuable in the NL
Central, where St. Louis tied the Astros for the division crown last year. The
Cardinals are heavy with left-handed bats.

Sox jettison Joe

All Joe Kerrigan wanted was "a chance" as Boston's skipper.

Apparently the Red Sox's new ownership group figured he
got that chance last year  and failed.

The Sox fired Kerrigan yesterday and replaced him on an
interim basis with third-base coach Mike Cubbage. And when they say "interim,"
they really mean it. GM Mike Port, an interim guy himself, said he plans to
have a manager in place for the season opener April 1.

Last season Boston lost 26 of 38 before winning five games
against bottom-feeders Tampa Bay and Baltimore. But Kerrigan never really did
get a fair chance after he was promoted from pitching coach to replace the ousted
Jimy Williams. And that's too bad, because he's open-minded, affable and willing
to try new things. In other words, refreshing. In the business world he would
be lauded for "thinking out of the box," but in baseball, he was ridiculed and
never got the respect of his two stars, Pedro Martinez and Manny Ramirez.

Maybe he was a lousy manager. We'll never know for sure.
But he was a good pitching coach, and now Boston doesn't have him for that,
either.

Escobar was great while he lasted

Maybe this is going to be the Mets' year.

Mo Vaughn will stay healthy. Roberto Alomar will duplicate
his near-MVP season in Cleveland. Edgardo Alonzo will revert back to his form
of 1999-2000. Al Leiter will have a Cy Young year. Jeff D'Amico will stay healthy.
Bobby Valentine will never have to resort to wearing a fake mustache and glasses.

Why the optimism? Already, the Alomar trade is looking
good  sadly, at the expense of Alex Escobar.

Escobar is out for the season after ripping his left ACL
Tuesday when he ran into the center field wall making a catch in a spring training
game against Pittsburgh.

The good news was it was a heckuva catch.

The key player in the deal that sent Alomar to New York,
Escobar, 23, was 5-for-10 with two walks and two steals in five exhibition games.

"He has been everything we expected," general manager Mark
Shapiro said. "A five-tool player with a quick bat, above average arm and speed."

Pumping himself up?

Yankees closer Mariano Rivera was recently asked what advice
he'd give to Houston setup man Octavio Dotel, who appears to be on the same
career patch as Rivera. "Trust what you got," he says. "Am I right? Trust your
pitch. Be 100% and trust it. Once you do that, hey, I guarantee you, things
will change. Things will change!

After his rare blown save in Game 7 of last year's World
Series, maybe Rivera's advice was as much for himself as for Dotel.

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